


a slower change of pace

by thatemofangirl



Series: AUgust 2020 [11]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 40s Bucky Barnes, AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Farmer Bucky Barnes, I gave everyone Stardew Valley roles and barely mentioned any, I love FitzSimmons, M/M, Minor Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Modern Steve Rogers, New York Steve Rogers, Shrunkyclunks, Stardew Valley AU, mildly inspired by Stardew Valley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatemofangirl/pseuds/thatemofangirl
Summary: Bucky’s been living a steady and peaceful life on his farm in the small town of Marvel, and he wouldn’t give it up. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that he did crave new company.In an unfortunate turn of events, for Steve anyway, he meets Steve Rogers, a man trying to get away from his life in the city and find a new life.Maybe he found his company after all.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: AUgust 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858408
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	a slower change of pace

**Author's Note:**

> Day 11 - Farm/Ranch AU
> 
> Well, this one took a couple tries to get going. Finally breaking through writers block? Ideas are fleeting. Maybe I should think things a little more through before starting a 31 day challenge.

Bucky hadn't realized how low the sun was getting until he noticed he was nearly enveloped in darkness because the trees of the surrounding forrest shrouded what little beams of golden-orange light there was left.

Wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his hand, Bucky lifted his axe to rest against his shoulder and let his feet navigate him out of the woods to where his truck was parked along the dirt path that cut through the forest.

Bucky had been out there nearly all day doing some work for the towns mayor. There was a road through the forest that connected two sides of the town, and a summer storm that had passed just three days ago had caused a few trees to fall down and path the route.

Bucky wasn't a stranger to doing odd jobs and busy work for the townspeople of Marvel. He's been living alone since his parents passed and his sisters decided to move to the New York City with their uncle. He stayed not only because he loved the town but because someone needed to take care of the Barnes family farm. He didn't have the heart in him to sell it.

But Bucky had also been one of the towns enigmas. His farm was decently secluded from the rest of the town, and while he was friendly and social for the most part, there weren't many he truly called his friends.

He did his part in tending his farm, but in his spare time just so he wouldn't spend it alone, he told everyone about how if they wanted him to do anything he would try his best. If he was going to be alone, he might as well have been productive about it. Over the years, the town has come to rely on him for repairs and herding adventurous animals as well as other simpler work like running errands or catching fish.

Bucky didn't mind for the most part. The work was always mutually beneficial, he would get paid in some way may that be money or food. He was helping others, and that was his main influencer.

Bucky's eyes grazed over the cut trees in the back of his pickup truck. Mayor Fury had said if he did the work, he could keep them. That sounded a fair enough deal to him. Once the wood had fully dried, he could cut it and stock up for the winter.

His boots sunk slightly into the not-quite mud as he opened the drivers door and climbed in, fishing his keys from his pants pocket and turning them in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and turning on his headlights, Bucky began to drive back home.

He had to take the long way around because he hadn't yet finished clearing the fallen trees. He was only one man, and while he was pretty strong for farming standards, cutting down and hauling trees took a lot of work and effort. The setting of the sun was his timer saying he could go home.

His arms hurt from the exertion, and he was both hungry and tired. He knew he was probably just going to crash once he reached his bed—hell, probably even his couch.

Bucky kept his eyes peeled and his foot hovered over the brake in case any wildlife decided to dash across the road, but when Bucky's eyes narrowed because he thought something, it was the farthest from a wild deer or rabbit.

Slowing to a crawl just as the forest path converged with the main road, Bucky saw his headlights reflecting on the metal of a motorcycle. He might not have payed as much attention as he did if the bike was upright and it's driver had been standing nearby or even on it, but he came to a halt and rushed out of his truck when the scene had come into clear focus.

"Jesus Christ," Bucky muttered under his breath as he saw the wrecked motorcycle. Mud prints had shown that it came careening from the main road, and the driver must have tried to avoid something and crashed into a tree a little ways into the forest.

His first instince was to find the driver. It was getting pretty late, and with that, dark. Unless they were in the right parts, Bucky knew the town could get pretty spooky at night. Especially in the forest.

Luckily, Bucky didn't even have to go further than a couple of steps from the crash site to find a body. On the not so lucky side, Bucky dropped to his knees when he saw the unconcious man, fearing the worse.

Rolling the man to his back, Bucky placed a hand on his chest to see if he was breathing. Letting out a sigh of relief when he felt the mans chest rise and fall under his hand, Bucky began to inspect him.

It didn't look like he had much. There wasn't a bag in sight, so he was just traveling with the clothes in his back and his now wrecked motorcycle. Jeans, and a black leather jacket over a plain white tee shirt that was now brown and caked with mud.

He had what Bucky could assume was blond hair that was also dirtied from the mud, and very well kept handsome features. Bucky shook his head and cleared his thoughts. The unconcious man's attractiveness wasn't something Bucky should dwell on. He was _unconcious._

Pursing his lips for a second, Bucky thought about what to do. It didn't look like the man was bleeding, or anything was broken. He must've fell off his bike when it crashed and hit his head on the ground hard enough to make him pass out. While that was concerning, Bucky could work with that.

The clinic didn't open until the next morning, and the nearest hospital was a two hour drive away. Maybe it was being slightly selfish, Bucky hadn't particularly felt up to making that trip.

Lacing his arms under the man, his muscles screaming at him to stop because of all the work he had already done to tire them out, Bucky carried the blond man to the passenger seat of his truck and buckled him in before getting back into the driver's seat and beginning to drive again.

Looks like Bucky was bringing him home with him.

It was straining trip to get the man into his house as well; up the front steps and through the living room until Bucky was able to lay him comfortably on the couch.

His house wasn't terribly messy, and lack of sleep might have had a factor in Bucky's trouble of finding a pad of paper and a pen. But once he succeeded, he scribbled out a short note explaining to the man where he was and what had happened in the unlikely event that he woke up before Bucky did and placed it where he would see it when he woke up alongside a glass of water.

Bucky took another look at the man. If he cast away the facts that he had found him on the side of the street and he was decently dirty from the crash, Bucky would've thought he looked peaceful as he slept. 

Bucky ran a hand down his face as he opened the door to his bedroom. Every part of him was begging him to collapse down on his bed and go to sleep, and that's exactly what he did. Between the cool pillow and sheets and his exhaustion—both physical and mental— Bucky had calmed his racing thoughts about the man enough and quickly fell into a restful slumber.

Right on time, Bucky woke up right as the rooster crowed at dawn. Stretching his slightly less painful but rested muscles, he began routine.

But after he had gotten dressed after coming out of the showerhe'd forgotten to take the night before, he had remembered about the man on his couch.

Checking to see if the man was still there, both for curious purposes and to make sure he wasn't going crazy, Bucky poked his head into the living room to see the still sleeping man on the couch.

He had shifted from the original position he was in, arm covering his face, so at least that told Bucky he was alive and not in a coma.

The man was snoring soundly, and after letting out a soft laugh, Bucky figured he would have time to check on his chickens and goats before he would attempt to wake the man up and bring him to the clinic in town considering it didn't open for another hour or so.

By the time Bucky came back, he had a basket of eggs that needed to be cleaned and smelled slightly of hay and animal feed, but it wasn't anything too bad.

Dropping the basket off in his kitchen as he came through the screen door, he thought he saw movement from the living room.

Bucky emerged from the kitchen wiping his hands on a dish towel, making sure his footsteps were loud enough to alert the man of his presence if he was awake.

The man, in fact, was awake, and sitting up on the couch with the note Bucky had left for him in his hands. Immediately, he looked up and saw Bucky, taking a defensive stance.

Normally Bucky could hold his own if he ever got into a fight. Doing physical labor his whole life had paid off, he had to be strong to be able to keep up the land. But as he looked at the man, he realized if things went south or were misinterpreted, he would definitely give Bucky a run for his money. They were about the same height, but the man seemed to work out in his spare time for fun. Tall and intimidating, especially when he was staring down a stranger while in a strangers home.

Bucky put on a friendly smile. He knew he was just being pessimistic. Surely the man would know that he wasn't some kind of psychopathic serial killer who lured his victims into his home after finding them passed out on the side of the road. Besides, he knew a fair share of people to have called him charming and inviting. Bucky wasn't expecting to regret giving a helping hand.

"Good mornin'," Bucky greeted, tucking the rag into his back pocket. "How are you feeling?"

"Um," Bucky's initial thought of the mans personality faded when it was a timid and wary voice that came out. "Like I crashed into a tree,"

"I can give you some pain meds if you want. You can clean up." Bucky looked down at his wrist. "Or we can go straight to the clinic, have Fitz-Simmons take a look at you. They'll fix you up, couldn't think of a better duo. You know your name and everything, right?"

"Oh. Steve. I'm Steve."

Bucky's smiled widened. At least the note worked. "Well, what'll it be, Steve?"

"All of the above?" Steve rubbed the back of his head, dried mud falling in a fine powder and making him frown in disgust.

"I should have some clothes that can fit you. The bathroom's first door the right. Ibuprofen is in the cabinet. I'll be there in a second with some clothes." Bucky directed as Steve nodded his head in understanding.

Bucky felt himself becoming restless as he waited for Steve. He wasn't sure if it was because he had a complete stranger showering in his home, or if it was because part of him didn't want that stranger to leave.

He figured out it was probably the latter when he had to resist the urge to keep staring at the man as he drove into town. Bucky never thought blue eyes were anything special, especially because he sees a pair of them every time he looks into a mirror, but for some reason, Steve's seemed to be ultra enticing. While Bucky knew his eyes could seem cold, even storm like, Steve's were like a calm ocean of blue.

Parking just outside, Bucky led Steve into the clinic, glancing at Clint's next door. He would have to stop in later if he remembered, see how Laura and the kids were doing and to drop off some of this seasons crops.

"Good morning, James!" Bucky smiled as Jemma looked up to see him walk in as the bell on the door chimes. "Is your left shoulder acting up again?"

"No, no I'm not here for me this time." He chuckled. "I was actually wondering if you could take a look at a friend of mine." Steve entered behind him, and a curious smile appeared on her face.

"You're new around here,"

"Who's new around here?" Bucky's attention changed to the new familiar voice as Fitz poked his head around the corner of the back room holding a pencil in his mouth.

"Bucky brought in a friend," Jemma turned to Steve with a friendly smile. "Hello, I'm Jemma Simmons. This is my husband and partner—"

"Leo Fitz," Bucky took a step back and allowed Steve to introduce himself as he shook their hands.

Steve chuckled softly. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"So, what're you here for? Feeling okay? You must have come from Shelbyville."

"No. New York, actually." The room went silent and Steve smiled before letting out a short sigh. "Yeah, I didn't really feel like I fit in there anymore. I had this government job, and it was just getting really repetitive. So I quit, got on my motorcycle, and decided to just drive until I got somewhere that looked interesting. Quiet, and someplace where I can keep busy, you know?"

"You've come to the right place, there's loads to do here. Escape the city." Jemma smiled.

"I don't really think this is how he thought today was gonna go," Bucky chimed in, eyes turning to him.

"Heh, no. Not really."

"Steve here crashed. I found him coming home last night, unconcious."

"You crashed?" Fitz asked, hopping out of his stool and swiping a thermometer across Steve's forehead before he even knew. Bucky leaned up against the wall, watching the scene unfold amusedly.

"Hit your head?"

"Yea-yeah."

Jemma stood up and quickly told Steve to look forward as she examined his eyes with a light. "State your full name please?"

"Steven Grant Rogers."

"Date of birth?"

"July 4, 1993."

"Hold up three fingers." Fitz said, and Steve followed the directions. "Now two?" He did. "Now hold up five in total on both hands."

"Any bumps or throbbing in your head?"

"Not really, no."

"What's three times three?"

"Nine."

"Ten plus seven?"

"Seventeen."

Fitz-Simmons stepped back from Steve and stood side by side when they were done, and Bucky watched, holding back a laugh, as Steve was a little confused on their tag-teaming method.

"You seem responsive and there isn't any tell-tale symptoms of any major head trauma. But to be safe, we can go to the back and get a MRI scan for good measure. Prescribe some medicine if your head hurts or you're uncomfortable. Do you have insurance?"

"Um, yeah." Steve answered, a little bewildered.

They exchanged a quick look before saying a quick 'be right back' and then disappearing through the doorway.

"They moved so fast! Are they always like that?"

Bucky masked his smirk slightly as Steve turned toward him. "Oh yeah. Fitz-Simmons work as a perfect unit. I don't even think they've been aoart since med school. They know each other's next move before they even take it. You get used to it after a while. They're good at what they do."

"Seems like it."

"All right, Steve, let's get you all set up."

Bucky stopped by next door as he waited for Steve's head scan to be finished. He was the man's ride, he wasn't just going to ditch him when he had no way of transportation. He listened to Clint as he brought Bucky up to the latest news, and even told him about Steve. He only realized that Clint was one of the worst secret keepers only after he had shared the information, but it was too lte by then.

It seemed to be perfect timing as Bucky left Clint's, seeing Steve step carefully out of the clinic and looking around town.

"Hey," Bucky waved and Steve turned to him. "All good?"

"Yeah. Mild concussion, but nothing I haven't had before."

"Was that government job of yours dangerous?"

"At times. Not so much lately." Steve shrugged. "Hey, I wanted to thank you. For not leaving me out there, I mean."

"It was no problem," Bucky assured, guesturing Steve to follow him back to his truck. He grumbled softly when he was reminded of the work he had to do in the back. "You looked like you were in good enough shape to save you." Then he chuckled. "Wish I could say the same for your bike."

"No..."

"I'm kidding. Kidding." Bucky laughed. "Nothing I can't fix. It isn't too bad. I just didn't feel like hauling another two hundred pounds back to my house after I was chopping trees all day."

"You're a mechanic?" Steve asked and Bucky shook his head.

"Nah, Stark's the mechanic. But your bike's probably below his pay grade. I can fix it up if you want."

"You don't have to do so much for me, I'm not even sure how I can pay you back for what you've already done." Steve shook his head.

"It's fine, really. I always help everyone out. Ask anyone. Besides, how are you gonna find the place you're looking for if you're stuck here?"

"Well, Jemma said I came to the right place," Steve itched the back of his neck and Bucky eyed him curiously after they stepped into his truck. "Figured since I'm here...got anyplace in mind where I might be able to stay?"

Bucky couldn't help but to feel excitement rise in his chest, as immature as it seemed. He was staying. "Welcome to Marvel, Steve."


End file.
